


Trapped by Fixation

by 12D3Noods



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: 2doc - Freeform, Anal Sex, Angst, Belts, Car Sex, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Drama, Drug Use, Drug-Induced Sex, Drugged Sex, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Forced Orgasm, Hurt/Comfort, Light Bondage, M/M, Phase Four (Gorillaz), Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Harm, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2018-12-07 19:32:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11630391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/12D3Noods/pseuds/12D3Noods
Summary: 2D gets attacked and as devastation and paranoia begin to set in, Murdoc shows him that there's something more powerful than the feeling of complete and utter hopelessness...love.Edit: This is a work in progress- chapters will be continuously revised as needed!(Thank you for your patience and continuous support!)





	1. Shattered

**Author's Note:**

> This multi-chapter fic that will explore a relationship between Murdoc and 2D built upon tragedy, shared suffering and ultimately love.
> 
> Feel free to share, comment and like ---these things keep me motivated so please show your support!  
>  
> 
> Thank you for being kind and patient with the progress of this work!
> 
> Over 2000?! You guys are too kind!!! <3<3<3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains graphic descriptions of the traumatic experience 2D is put through, please do not try to put yourself in a position that makes you uncomfortable- if you would rather not read this section you can skip to Chapter 2 and continue on from there. 
> 
> Please keep sharing, commenting and liking, it really motivates me!

The dizzy singer was tossed into the car. When he heard the door 'click', the air seemed to dissipate, leaving him winded, desperate to gasp. Why couldn't he move? An unbearable heat festered under clothes, dampening them to where they strangled his body in a thick layer of sweat. 2D blushed as his the dim light from the street lamps was swallowed by a black void that crept into view. It crashed upon him, pinning him to the seat and crushing his already deprived lungs. And steadily, as he fought to resist the force on top of him, a numbing ache had begun to work through his veins. His heart beat slowed. The world became a fuzzy blur of colours that melded together, sinking into that void above him. Blades like teeth appeared from the blackness and attacked his neck, cutting into him, peppering his white skin with lurid bruises.

“I’ve got you now,” it growled. The deep tone made the weak singer quiver. What did he want him for?

Something snapped. When he tried to squirm away he found himself trapped under that anchored force, it's claws grabbing him by the waist to keep him still.

“Quit movin’!”  
2D obeyed as the energy to fight continued to drain from his body like a receding tide that didn't return. 

“Open up.”

Fingers slipped through 2D’s missing teeth and coaxed his mouth open. 2D mumbled for it to ‘stop’, his flimsy hands nudging at the figure.

“Hush! Quit ‘at! Dammit, shut up!” His arms were pinned above his head. He turned his face to the seat stubbornly as the rancid breath on his face made his stomach gargle in disgust.

“Look at me,” it demanded, pinching the singer’s jaw to forcibly turn his chin.

2D tried to focus on the blurred figure but when he noticed any certain detail, the shape of his eyes, the bend in his nose, what colour his hair was...he lost another, erased by fear that controlled his mind like a dictator, manipulating his thoughts to make him focus on the whatever came at him next from that endless void.

“Suck.”

Something thick pushed at his mouth, asking to be taken in. 2D curled his lips in protest to the new object but those insistent fingers plunged in to pry them apart. He was gagged by the vile rod that shoved into his throat. Tears formed in his eyes which, unfortunately, didn’t help him to realize the rod had begun to move, back and forth. It dug into him, suffocating him until he briefly lost consciousness before it pulled away to allow him a merciful breath. He gulped the salty air around the rod that flattened his tongue. The rod moved again, faster, hammering his throat raw. 2D thought the black frays at the edge of his vision meant that he was nearing the end, death by choking, which seemed better than what came next. The rod stiffened against the broken skin, pulsed then released a something creamy that 2D had no other choice but to swallow.

“Good boy. ‘At’s it.”

2D would have spit the remains out if his mouth hadn’t been filled with a hard leather strap he bit on. He winced as it tightened around his head. What was going to happen? He whimpered as if he were in a nightmare, hoping that Noodle would hear him and rescue him from the darkness of his bedroom. Was he even in his room? He couldn't remember, panicked and squeaked in an attempt to holler for 'help'.

“Shut up!”  
_Crack! ___

__The back of his hand connected with 2D’s face, sending his head to the side instantly. He sobbed, his jaw trembling from the tingling sensation in his cheek._ _

__“Do you know what ‘appens next mate?”  
“N-ngh…Mmm...”_ _

__2D writhed as his trousers were ripped off, exposing his own half stiff member. It happened quickly. A deep growl whispered in his ear:__

__  
"I'm was going to take you in there too, but this'll have to do."_ _

__"This is your punishment. It has to be this way."_ _

__"You'll never forget this. You'll remember how good it felt when I fucked you. How you screamed for me. You'll remember this. I'll make sure you do."_ _

__Blistering heat tore through his back as though he were being split in half from below. 2D tried to scream but the makeshift gag muffled his voice and he retired his efforts to aching moans._  
_

__“Sing for me, come on!”_ _

__2D didn’t understand why it hurt so badly. His dazed eyes lingered around the car and the ringing in his ears grew into a thudding migraine. The obscured figure drove forward in shallow but vigorous thrusts until it released something inside of him. It rode out the heavy load then removed the belt, freeing the singer's faint voice.__

____

__"Good boy! Keep going, I want to hear you."_  
_


	2. Insanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2D can't remember what happened the night before but his emotions have begun to spiral out of his control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please keep sharing, commenting and liking, it really motivates me!
> 
> Thank you all so much for your support!

Murdoc burst through the front door of the apartment with the intent to drag the blue haired doofus inside and interrogate him for having been out all night, without texting him, which was unusual considering the singer made sure to check in by the hour.

“Dents!”

While lying face down on the grass with his arms over his head 2D shivered. How long had he been there? The cold morning dew had already soaked through his clothes. His memory of last night was hazy like a rotten film with sizzling holes that ate through the pictures. With strain he managed to balance on two feet, his arse throbbing under the pressure. Although, on the bright side he had his sunglasses on which protected him from the sun that peered at him from behind their townhouse. The crisp autumn breeze filled his lungs and he felt revived with the first real breath since his dead slumber. But the cleansing breath was short lived when a strange pang of discomfort shot through him. He prodded his chest for the source, winced, then lifted his shirt. Scabbed bites and claw marks crosshatched a red tattoo across his stomach.

“What the bloody hell happened to you?” Murdoc waded the singer's shirt in his fist and lifted it higher to examine the marks.

“I-I-I dunno M-muds they is just there I-I-I don’t remember what happened!” 2D cried out in panic. He pried at Murdoc’s fingers in a desperate attempt to remove them from the fabric. Murdoc raised his brow in question but released him.

“Looks like you had a...hng~ fun time mate,” he snickered. “What kind of bird was she? How’d she feel? Did she have, mm, large knockers?”  


“I-I don’t know Murdoc!” 2D shouted, anger pulsing through him like an unleashed tidal wave of emotion that had been trapped inside him for too long. He wasn’t in the mood to dabble in Murdoc’s fantasies, frankly, it sickened him. His stomach flipped and he wanted to puke or scream or….something! Something other than listen to the rubbish spewing from the bassist’s mouth.

“Settle down Dents. I think sleeping on the ground has gotten to your head. Go take some painkillers and meet the rest of us down in the radio room for practice.”  


“Y-yeah,” 2D muttered as he rubbed his sore neck. “I-I think I should ah, get on it then.”  


He limped past the bassist and into the apartment.

Murdoc let his suspicions arise and eyed him as he went.

“I don’t like that,” he grumbled as he followed him inside. There was more to the story, Murdoc thought, more than 2D was telling him and he wasn't about to let it slip past him that easily. He would find out the truth because if there were one thing he hated most it was the being in the unknown. He would do whatever it took to unravel this mystery whether or not it meant he had to dig for it with his bare hands through filthy lies and loose ends. 

2D opened the medicine cabinet. Painkillers were arranged alphabetically in rows on the shelves with sunscreen, face creams, a soda can and...lube. He snatched the container of lube and chucked it in the trash. He didn’t expect any birds to come home with him in a while and besides, it was probably expired if possible, or it was Murdoc’s and in that case he didn’t care what happened to it. The strongest painkillers were on the top shelf and labeled with names he couldn’t pronounce even with Noodle’s help. He grabbed one of the bottles, unscrewed the cap and dumped the pellets in his hand. He tossed them to the back of his throat to swallow them.

“Ugh…” he groaned when they instantly took an effect. They drained him, made him feel weaker than the grogginess that had accompanied him from his deep sleep. It was nauseating, too familiar to comfort him despite the relief they gave him from the raging headache he’d had.

“N-no…”

He limped toward the toilet, fell to his knees and lost the painkillers in an abrupt heave. His headache returned at double the force, sparking through his head and bringing stars to his eyes. This compelled him to duck his head into the bowl and leave it there for the remainder of that tiresome morning.


	3. Thought Process

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murdoc brushes the singer's odd behaviors off as typical for hungover sods that had too much fun. Noodle and Russel try to convince him otherwise, they suspect something else is going on with 2D that even the singer himself is unaware of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave suggestions, critiques and requests.
> 
> This is my first fiction that's coming together as a full length story so please bare with me as I work hard to give this my all! <3 ^^"
> 
> Thank you for your support !

Luckily, he escaped the toilet for a long awaited shower. The freezing water pierced the swollen bites on his neck. 2D rested his forehead on the tiles looking down at his bruises, wishing that they were like paint and that they would ooze from his skin, cleansing him of the horrors in the back of his mind, of not knowing exactly how he’d gotten them and why they caused an irrational need to claw at his wrists as if something were holding onto them. He sighed. At least the water paralyzed his headache to where he could finally assemble the scattered pieces of his memory.

“Was it a bird…?” He imagined a lean blonde girl with a ripped tank top and shorts that cupped her bubbly hide. No, that didn’t sound familiar. He groaned, his arse throbbed as though begging him to relieve it from the weight of his drenched shoulders. He put his elbows on the wall, hunching forward, the water soothing the ache with it’s mild pressure.

“I-I’ve got to get...to practice,” he muttered as he twisted the shower knob to turn it off.

“Where have you been Dents? I told you to be down here after you popped them,” Murdoc grumbled, tapping his pen on the soundboard. He put the end of it in his mouth and glanced at the studio, gesturing with a flick of his finger.

“Well? Don’t just stand there Dullard, let’s hop to it mate we're running out of daylight!”

2D limped into the studio to join Russel and Noodle who had their instruments ready. They exchanged a shifty glance at one another then Noodle hoisted her guitar into position, Russel grabbed his drumsticks.

“Ready D’?”  


“M-mmhm,” 2D hummed. He held the pole attached to the mic for stability. Murdoc flipped the keys on the board then in one swift movement signaled them to begin. Russel’s thunderous beat traveled right into the back of 2D’s wobbly legs. His knees bent in and a meek whimper climbed out of his sore throat.

Murdoc shot him a rigid glare. He gulped, teeth chewing the loose flakes of skin on his chapped lips. When the guitar line vibrated through him, he knew he would have to sing.

“I ain’t happy,” he croaked. “I’m feeling-”  


“No no no!” Murdoc hit his chair then stood, kicking it over in a fit of rage.

“Come on!” He shouted. “What’s with you? This is Clint Eastwood baby, give it some feelin’ yeh? Hmph...Like you never sang before in your life! Aaaand, again.”

2D tried to coat the raw patch in his throat with saliva but it burnt and he turned his head to cough. Murdoc growled.

“Oi! Your ruining my song Dents!”  


“I-I, gahk! Eck!” He put his fist to his mouth, hacking out the milky white glue that lurched from his stomach.

“Shit!” Murdoc scrambled to grab the trash can and bring it to the retching singer. He wadded a handful of blue hair in his claws and dunked the singer's head into the bucket before he could ruin the rather…pricey equipment around them.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner faceache?” he growled, yanking the singer’s head back for a response.

“I-I’m sorry M-M-Muds, I-I’ve been feelin’ awful this morning. Th-think it’s from the...the...ughh..” he lowered his head to gag into the trashcan. Murdoc’s lip twitched in disgust and slight amusement.

“I don’t think I should be letting you go off on your own mate,” he chuckled.  


“How’s that…?”  


“Look at you!” he laughed. “You sod! You got so bloody pickled that you’re hungover! You know how long it’s been since I’ve, ghn~, had _that_ kind of fun? A week because of this sodding lyric work!”

“He don’t look too good Muds,” Russel broke the bassist's laughter with his low mumble.  


“I think what he needs is rest,” Noodle suggested.

“Hmm…” Murdoc let the singer go, shoving the trashcan at his chest.  


“Get to your room then mate. Have a lie down. But we’re gonna practice today so be sure you’re well later.”  


2D hugged the trashcan and shuffled out of the studio.

Noodle set her guitar on it’s stand then turned to the bassist.  


“Something is wrong with Toochi.”  


“Yeah Muds, he’s banged up. Did you see them bites? Like he fought a wild animal.”

“You two are overreacting,” Murdoc grumbled. “He was out at the pub last night getting wasted and probably ended the night with some birds who like it rough eh?”  


“We should check on him to make sure.”

“Ragh! Why does it matter!” Murdoc threw his pen at the studio glass. He tapped his foot impatiently and crossed his arms.  


“So what if he’s not sobered up yet?”

“Those weren’t his normal eyes,” she said.

Murdoc scoffed.  


“You’ve got to be bloody kidding me! You can't even see his eyes! This is bollocks, he’s fine!”  


The three bandmates quickly turned their heads to the deafening _crash _that hurled at them from the stairwell.__


	4. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang helps 2D put together the pieces of his lost memory and despite his own beliefs, Murdoc is the most surprised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to leave constructive feedback, criticisms and what you thought of the work as these things will help me to grow as a writer for you. <3
> 
> Thank you for being kind and patient with the progress of this work!
> 
> I am thrilled to see that this work has captured so many people's interest and I would like to thank everyone for giving me the chance to learn/improve for you! Chapter 5 should be out soon!

What was that sound?

2D clutched the banister as he whipped around to listen. He’d thought he heard someone following him. Weren’t the other’s downstairs? He stepped down from the stairs to check the nearest landing but aside from the Boogeyman on the couch there was nothing particularly disconcerting. With that, he decided that Noodle was right for telling Murdoc he needed rest, he was starting to hear things.

But then he heard it again, a faint whisper brushing by his ears.

_I’ve got you now._

He hugged himself.

_Look at me._

“No!”

When he closed his eyes he saw the outline of a figure coming toward him, closer and closer, suffocating him with its presence.

_You won’t forget._

“D-don’t touch me!”  
He shoved his arms straight out to push at the ghost, the force of his motions throwing him into the wall. His head broke through the plaster, he stumbled forward, jabbed his knee on the chair lift and flipped, landing on the ground in an absent daze.

 _“Toochi, please wake up.”_  
_“Yo D’ this ain’t funny man, open your eyes!”_  
_“Agh! For the love of- wake up Dullard! Dents! **Stuart!** ”_

2D cracked his eyes open to the figures hovering over him. He moaned then kicked, punched, screamed at the outlines to ‘get away’. Murdoc tried to hold him down.

“S-stop!” he cried. “L-let me go!”  


“Not yet mate, not until you-Fuck!”

The singer buried his fist into Murdoc’s crooked nose, sending him flying into the wall where he stayed to massage the inflated plum wedged between his eyes. 2D scrambled from them but was blocked by Russel’s legs that acted as a barrier guarding him from the stairwell. Noodle had sat across from them with a cup of water in her hand.

“What was that for?” Murdoc growled. 2D wrung his hands together in the folds of his shirt.  


“I-I didn’t mean to hit you Muds I just, it was- I thought you were someone else.”

“Who else would I be mate?” He bellowed. “It’s rather hard to confuse a green skin, master bass player and sex god with, err-anyone really!”  
“I dunno Muds, I-I really don’t.”

“Toochi?” Noodle handed him the water, cupping his hands in her own for extra support.  


“Are you okay?”

2D looked into the cup and grimaced at his reflection. There were purple bags under his eyes that made them seem wider like he were in constant alarm. His cheeks were ablaze, one of which had a faded streak resembling a scratch. He gulped.

“I can’t…”  


“You can’t?” her tender voice calmed him.  


“I c-can’t say it.”

“Of course you can faceache, eh, in fact whatever it is I bet it won’t surprise us. What? Did you forget the condom again?” he grinned. “Don’t tell me you tried it upside down mate, your tiny brain can’t ‘andle that kink. Well? Come on’en spit it out already!”

“I fink someone had me.”  


“Oh you ‘fink’ so huh?” Murdoc rolled his eyes.  


“But it wasn’t a bird.”

“You tryin’ to tell us somethin’ D?” Russel sat down, crossing his legs to lean on them.  
Noodle beamed, her hands tightening around the singer’s. He shivered, fighting the urge to pull away.

“Toochi we’ll accept you no matter what you like!”

That was another problem...had he... _liked_ it?

“Th-that’s not what I’m trying to say!”  


“Why were you limping then?” Murdoc called out.  


“I don’t remember!”  


“What else would it be Dents? Your arse don’t just start hurting out of nowhere!”  
“It’s not my-” he paused.

“How did you know it was my arse?”

“It’s pretty obvious man, you’ve been keepin’ off it even in the studio. I saw you shufflin’ and thought damn he’s got his groove on but then you had this funny look on your face like it was painful,” Russel broke through the tension that welled up between the singer and the bassist.

“Toochi we’re worried about you.”

2D set the cup on the floor after sipping at it and cringing at the sharp tang it had. His stomach would have tossed if it hadn’t been emptied twice already. He was ill with nerves that crawled through him like millions of tiny ants inching into his bloodstream.

“S-someone had me.”  


“You said that genius,” Murdoc said, his last note teasing sarcasm.  


“B-but I d-d-didn’t want it.”

Murdoc’s nostrils flared, his eyes narrowing in on the singer’s tranced face.  


“What...like er-,” he paused, carefully choosing the words that followed.

“... _raped_ you?”


	5. Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The devastation of the event has taken a toll on the bassist, he can't seem to understand who...how...or why anyone would want to hurt 2-D. And Noodle takes control of the action, leaving Murdoc blindsided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it was time to post this chapter. Hopefully its length will really help with the writing! I have also spaced the dialogue more as recommended by others for a smoother read. Thank you for your support!
> 
> https://12d3noods.tumblr.com/post/163831605613/chapter-4-of-trapped-by-fixation-by-12d3noods

Murdoc, for what he thought was the first time, was at a loss of what to do when the singer had his meltdown on the landing that day. He was opposite to him, watching in dumbfounded fixation as those leaky black eyes stirred his insides into a viscous gravy of his broiling blood. He growled but not at the whimpering singer, at himself for not having seen the obvious signs. 2D avoided him farther than his usual 3 foot distance and his nervous habits had been excessive, his shirt had permanent groves where his fingers could hook into. What had this man done to damage his singer beyond repair?

Right, he remembered. He raped him and not in just the physical display of primitive aggression but he robbed the singer of his purity, his innocence, the thing that made 2D who he was on the inside. Murdoc saw it at that moment, what Noodle had mentioned before, that there was something wrong with his eyes.

When Murdoc looked at them, he wanted to cry.

And once he was alone in the radio room downstairs, that’s what he did. He cried into the bottle of rum clenched in his fist as he wondered how much alcohol it would take to sleep peacefully through the imminent night. The singer’s tormented sobs haunted him. They played in his head like a broken record, reminding him that he was accountable for the singer’s fate, he should have went with him to the club that night, he should have guzzled the tainted drink and it should have been him that was- ...not 2D. Anyone but 2D.

“Fuck!” He shouted and smashed his fist into the dusty record player, snapping the needle from its body. His ragged breath blew the paper stacks from his desk onto the tangled wires that connected his microphone to the radio. He leaned over the desk to see what was written on the papers, which insults he had scripted to use when he described how the other members of the band were holding out in their meager apartment, on 212 Wobble Street. Their vulgarity would have made him cackle before but he could barely bring himself to read through them, especially if they were attached to the bolded characters “2-D”. He couldn’t disrespect that silly sod live right now, with the attacker nearby which brought another disturbing fact to his attention…

Hadn’t he found 2D in the lawn that morning?

How did he get there? Surely he didn’t do it himself, he wasn’t even capable of finding the bathroom which Noodle had directed him to.

Dust swam through the air and mixed with the cigarette smoke that seeped from the lit butt in the ashtray. Murdoc picked it up for a long drag, it tasted sour like coffee he found the next day still sitting in the microwave where 2D forgot he’d placed it. Bitter, sensitive to his tongue yet he went for another drag as if he depended on it to dry his tears before they could fall. He hated crying, he felt…vulnerable doing it.

There was a knock on his door. Murdoc squashed the cigarette on his thigh with a soft hiss then flicked it in the ashtray.

“What?” he snapped.

Noodle entered the radio room with a two tea cups in her hands, her foot propping the door open while she slipped past. Murdoc turned to her in his swivel chair. She put one cup under a cork mat on the desk then sat in the guest chair across from him with her’s in her lap.

“You have to face him at some point Murdoc,” she mumbled, her lips pressed around the rim of her cup. Murdoc pushed his aside.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about love,” he blurted in a chuckle.  


“I’m in here doing my radio show for our fans, that’s nothing out of the ordinary I assure you.”

“You’ve been down here for almost a week Murdoc.”  


“And that dullard has been in his room! What’s your business disturbing me during my work? He should be the one you’re worried about love, trust me he has plenty of issues.”

“You’re avoiding him.”

“Bollocks!”

“You are.”

“And yoooouuu little miss are starting to rrrrreally rock my boat,” he snarled.

“I think it’s bothering you. You should talk to him.”

“What the bloody hell would I have to say to that idiot? Sorry mate that some wanker took a jab at your pretty little arse but it was bound to happen some time!” He threw his hands to the ceiling in avid frustration.

“That was uncalled for,” she sighed and put her empty cup down.

“But I’m not asking you to do this for him. This is for you.”  


“Why do you say that sweetheart? Hmm?”  


“I found this.”

Noodle dug through her jacket then handed him a crumpled wad of paper. He unfolded it, delicately, with the tip of his nails. His eyes grew wide.

“Where did you find this?” He growled, eying her composure as if she had something to hide.

“Does it matter? I have it, I’ve read it and I think you should talk to him.”  


She nabbed the letter from his hands and tucked it in her bra while Murdoc stood and slipped into his cuban heels.

“5 minutes,” he said.  
“5 minutes is all I ask.”

So why did it feel like he’d spent a lifetime just riding his chairlift to the top floor where that dullard’s room was? He should have included this in his 5 minute deal but then Noodle would probably make a flower pot out of his head and set it beside that dismantled Cyborg. As the chairlift turned on the last corner Murdoc held his breath. What would he find in that bedroom? He hadn’t seen the singer in a week, perhaps he dyed his hair orange and pitched that teddy bear look for something tougher, hell, he could have joined a biker gang and Murdoc wouldn’t have known. He sighed out the breath he’d stored when he walked through the cracked door.

“Oi Dents, I’m coming in!”

He went to the chair near the window and faced 2D who was cocooned in his blanket in bed.

“You’ve got 5 minutes mate, speak.”

2D didn’t move.

“It isn’t that bad Dents, you’re fine.”  


Murdoc grumbled when the singer remained unmoving. He tugged the covers off of him and exposed what 2D had been doing that week. Gashes laced his forearms like he had woven his switchblade through his veins but had given up when they disappeared into his elbows. Murdoc grabbed his wrist to turn him over.

“Murdoc, I can explain!”

“Then get explaining!” He shouted. His own voice made him shake in distress.  


“What the bloody hell is this you gormless nob! What have you done to yourself? This is ridiculous, preposterous, ragh! insanity!”

“I dropped me toothbrush a-and Katsu took it so I had to get it back b-but that cat’s faster then me!” he whimpered.  
“So I tackled it but it has these real sharp nails Muds and it clawed the hell outta me...Noodle’s been in here to put cream on them though, I fink they’re getting much better. Don’t you?”

Murdoc dropped his arm.

“You’re bluffing.”

“No Muds!” He chuckled. “I’m being serious! That’s what happened! Ask Russel, he saw it too.”

“Russel also sees death himself.”

He lit a cigarette from 2D’s pack on the keyboard and handed it to the singer, then he lit one for himself to smoke out the window.

“You know Dents, you need a haircut. You look like a girl.”

“Do I?” 2D gingerly touched the blue locks that laid on his shoulder and nodded.  
“Guess your right Murdoc. I’ll have to do that soon.”

“You?” Murdoc snorted. “You can’t cut a snowflake from a piece of paper how do you think you’re going to cut through that jungle?”

“I dunno, I’ll manage. Maybe Noods knows how to cut hair.”

“I’ll do it. Turn around.”

2D sat up in his bed and hesitated.

“I can’t do dat Murdoc.”  


“Annnd why not?”  


“I won’t see you if I’m facin’ somewhere else Muds.”

“What,” he scoffed. “You can’t possibly think I’m going to do _that_ you too?”

“M-muds….”  


He’d struck a nerve. 2D faltered, his smile vanishing into a deep frown that seemed out of character on that normally cheery face. Murdoc wanted to reached out to him and put that smile back even if he had to press it in manually with his thumbs, but he resisted by gripping his jeans and tearing his eyes from the sorrowful expression.

“Forget it, I have to go,” Murdoc pushed himself to his feet, his heels clicking on the hardwood floor, snapping 2D from his distant gaze.

“Yeah, okay Murdoc.”

2D watched the bassist leave. He laid on his side, hugging his pillow. He crossed his legs self-consciously, feeling as though his sweatpants were transparent. His hand slipped under the pillow case and winced when it met the blade he’d stuffed within its cotton mass.

“I-I didn’t like it,” he whined. “I didn’t...I-I...M-make it stop!”

The prickling sensation as the blade cut into his palm was his vivid reminder of the reason he’d decorated himself in the gaping wounds. They were the pathways that would guide him to the part of himself he thought he’d lost in the trenches of burrowed resentment. Eventually, he believed he would find himself again and this was how. Murdoc couldn’t know.

“Well?” Noodle pulled the ladle from the pot on the stove, testing her soup with a brief taste before dipping it in to stir. Murdoc sat down at the kitchen table with Russel.

“He’s fine.”

“I meant you. How do you feel?”  
“Like shit.”  


“No surprise there,” Russel said.

“Shut up you twat,” Murdoc snatched the newspaper from the table and opened it to read but the aimless pass time left him even more miserable. He knew that he was just trying to fill the void in his evening by this random task. Why couldn’t he just go ask 2D to play a video game with him? Because he upset him and refused to accept it.

“Is ramen okay with everybody?” Noodle set the bowls in front of the men, pouring the ramen soup into them then handed them each a fork.

“Anything’s fine baby girl, just happy to have something other than pizza.”

“Pizza is a gift from Beelzebub Russ, you can’t beat that.”

“But ramen, mmm~ this is a gift from our Noodle,” he grinned. “Top that cracker ass.”

Murdoc grumbled while he waved the steam from his bowl to cool it.

“So I have been thinking,” Noodle joined them, pulling ramen with her chopsticks to slurp up with a smile.

“That’s dangerous love,” Murdoc retorted.

She ignored him, patted her wet lips with a napkin then continued softly.

“2D should go to therapy.”

“Not a bad idea,” Russel commented. “Might help him out. He’s had a real bad case of the heebie jeebies man, like, he’s shittin’ himself when we walk in to check on him.”

“That moron has always been an odd fellow, quite jumpy.”

“Murdoc,” Noodle’s stern tone alarmed the others.

“Whether you want to accept it or not Toochi needs help, he feels alone and he’s scared and I will not sit here and watch him turn into someone like you!”

“Like me? What are you implying love?” Murdoc growled. He knocked the bowl as he slammed his hands on the table in rage. She mirrored him, her palms flat to the table, her glare sword fighting against his.

“We are not arguing over this Murdoc! I’ve already made the appointments and you’re going!”

He blinked.

“Moi? Why do I have to go if this is for that tosser!”

“Because according to this-” Noodle held up the folded note she’d kept in her bra for Murdoc to see. The green colour faded from his face.

“-You need to go too.”

“I think you’re forgetting my dear that I’ve been through that blasted poppy-cock once before and hgn...let me make it known that there’s no fixing this handsome devil unless it’s with a one-night stand. I’ve already sorted out my problems.”

“Then therapy should be a breeze for you,” she said. “One session and if you’re as guilt free as you say you are then there should be no reason to go back. No referrals, no invalid assessments…” she leaned in.

“No copping out. Hai? I think that’s fair. If you’re fine then you should prove it.”

“You have no clue what you’re getting yourself into love, you’ll regret the moment you tread in Murdoc Niccals’ land.”

Russel snorted.  


“That sounded like some damn cartoon theme park.”


	6. Three Dimensional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murdoc discovers that there are more layers to the singer than he thought possible. He'd always thought the singer kept to his name, 2D, but there was something lurking underneath that dull boy that brought out a side of Murdoc he never knew he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think or if there is anything I can do to improve it! 
> 
> Thank you!
> 
> -Special thanks to MurdocTrinated for helping to make this Chapter better!

“No copping out, hai? I think that’s fair. If you’re fine then you should prove it.” Murdoc’s voice was three pitches higher, his head bobbing mockingly from side to side. He loathed that evil smirk Noodle wore, which was almost, _almost_ , better than his own.

That morning Murdoc awoke to her drumming on his door.

“Get up! You have to go to therapy today!” She'd called, ending her reminder with a giggle that wound a knot in the pit of his stomach.

Fine. If he had to go, he was going to be as difficult as possible about it. He laid in bed an extra ten minutes before he stood up, stretched, and rubbed his face through a couple of yawns. He took his time browsing his dresser for decent attire, which he knew would be scarce.

“You want me to go to therapy, love?” he mumbled, smirking to himself as he sifted through his thong collection, hunting for the leopard print.

“Then I’ll go to therapy.”

Murdoc went to the bathroom with the clothes on his arm. He turned the shower on and brushed his teeth while he waited for the water to steam. Once the mirror grew foggy he rinsed his mouth with a shot of tequila then took what he decided would be a relaxing shower where he leaned against the wall and let the water roll off his chest. _Therapy_ , he thought, _what a load of shit. I don’t need it._

His hands massaged the soap into his hair, the oily locks stuck between his fingers until he yanked them free. The foam that pooled on his hair fell when he dunked his head to rinse. Globs of pink bubbles ran down his legs. He rubbed them in so that their fruity scent would mask the permanent stench of alcohol and tobacco that lingered in his tresses. Not that _he_ minded it, but other people would...Where was he going with this? Since when had he given a damn about what other people thought about him? The only opinion that mattered was his own. He ruffled his hair to remove the last of the foam, turned the knob then exited the shower to finish getting ready before Noodle caught on to his delay.

“It’s her fault,” Murdoc grumbled as he zipped his jeans and adjusted himself to the constriction.

“She’s got me anxious...that wasabi bitch. I’ll get her.”

Before he left the bathroom he stopped in front of the mirror to check his teeth. His thumb nail doubled as a toothpick that cleaned the specks of pepper wedged between them from last night’s dinner. What would someone think if they saw that? _Food?_ In his pearly whites?

There it was again, that nagging voice in his head that reminded him there was a world outside that bathroom. He would enter it with dignity, he thought, his chin high and his chest swollen with pride. He was the great Murdoc Niccals, not that greasy bastard that sneered at him through the glass in the mirror, the one in his nightmares that sat in the corner of the bedroom, in the dark, waiting for something terrible to happen. What terrible things were lurking in the dark? Murdoc didn’t know and he didn’t want to find out, that’s why he kept the lights off. Without the light, he would never have to know.

“Sod off,” he spat at the reflection. Then, he turned on his Cuban heels and stomped out of the bathroom.

“Murdoc! It’s time to go! I won’t say it again!” Noodle’s voice travelled up the stairs, and he rolled his eyes.

“I won’t say it again,” he mocked as he plopped down on the chairlift and jerked it’s handle to get it’s rusty gears moving. The chairlift grunted when it started down the stairwell. Murdoc hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“This is a fuckin’ joke.”

Through the open archway, Russel peered at the grumpy old man, whose descent was more like falling than floating. Murdoc gritted his teeth and hissed in passing to which the drummer snorted, leaned back on the couch and resumed channel surfing on the little TV set they’d found for less than one hundred pounds on eBay. He put his feet on the coffee table, balancing his heels on the ring-stained coasters to keep them from scratching the glass.

“You off to therapy?”

“She told you eh?”

“Shit man,” Russel’s hands folded over his tummy with the remote wedged between them.

“You better be on your best behavior or Noodle’s gonna stick it to you.”

“She can sod off,” Murdoc grumbled.

“Don’t tell her that.”

“I’m not mad Russ.”

To that, Russel snorted again and his eyebrows raised, feigning surprise before his mood promptly sobered.

“You just better treat ‘D well, you hear? He doesn’t need to deal with your shitty attitude today. He’s tryin’ something new." He paused and narrowed his eyes.

"Ever done that Muds? Ever tried something new? Hoping that it would break you from the chains of your misery?”

“When did you become the philosophy king, Russ?” Murdoc spat, abruptly stopping the chairlift in it’s tracks to listen to the drummer’s _nonsense_.

“I’m just sayin’ that this isn’t about you today but maybe if you took the time to think about what you’re doing before you do it you might learn something about yourself in the process,” Russel paused as he lowered the volume on the TV.

“You tend to-”

“She showed you, didn’t she?” Murdoc growled, clutching the arms of the chair as though they were the only support to keep him from falling flat on his face when he hunched forward to hear better.

“Showed me what?” Russel peered in his direction, taking a moment to observe the Boogieman that sat innocuously in the Lazy Boy to his right. 

The Boogieman didn’t speak or even acknowledge the presence of the green man that he’d sought after since they’d escaped the island. He continued to browse the newspaper in his hands as if the day had already been finished and he was catching up on the local news he’d missed out on. Altogether that strange creature lingered in a time zone separate from the rest of the household, slower than the others; the other day it took him several minutes before he realized 2D had entered the room and begun watching his horror films, disturbing the calm silence with the dramatic screams of a random B-rate film star from the 80’s no one could tag a name to.

Russel would rather waste his time on that creature and not mangy green bass player that forgot to gel the loose curls on his neck to match his styled bowl cut hair. He also noticed how the buttons on Murdoc’s shirt were one off, zig-zagged on his chest with an extra button at the top with no hole to fit into. His socks weren’t the same either, the left was brown and the right was black. Had he been 2D, Russel wouldn’t have taken another glance but this was Murdoc, a man that took pride to ‘Seven Deadly Sins’ extremes.

“You feeling alright Muds?”

““Grrrreat question, Russ,” Murdoc drawled. “Hmm…...No.” 

“Didn’t think so.”

““Watch it, Gigantor.”

“Hey, I ain’t takin’ no ride rollercoaster you call a life. I don’t care why you look like a mess. I’m just letting you know before you go.”

“A mess? Why Russ, I will have you know that -” Murdoc began until his hand pressed to his collar. He felt the extra button and grunted.

“A minor….eh, mishap Russ. That’s all it is.”

“And your socks?”

Murdoc straightened his legs out to check and huffed.

“You can’t blame these old eyes.”

“You should start wearing them glasses of yours full time then.”

The bassist hissed. “You ought to bite your tongue before I rip it out.”

“Noodle’s going to be angry with you if you don’t hurry up Muds. She’s serious about this. You have her worried.”

“Worried? What does she have to worry about! I don’t need anyone to worry over me! I can verrry well take care of myself. I am more than capable of that.”

“You’re damn lucky she cares.”

“She’s putting her nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Russel didn’t feel the need to argue further. He returned the volume to its normal range, turning his back to signal the end of the conversation. Murdoc restarted the chairlift and only then did the Boogieman finally lifted his head to watch the bassist disappear, taking his debts with him.

“What’s taken you so long!” Noodle jiggled the car keys in her hand above Murdoc’s nose. He snatched them from her, showing his teeth in a low growl as he shoved between her and 2D to tug on the car door. 2D had already wrinkled his shirt with his nervous hands and his hair had come unglued from the gel he’d used, springing out like wild blue frays. Thick gray bags hung from his eyes. The faded bruises on his neck were hidden beneath the upturned collar of his button up dress shirt. When he brushed them with his fingers Murdoc stole a peek and flinched but opened the door to mask the jerky reflex.

“Get in Dents, Noodle,” Murdoc hopped into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut. 2D walked around to take the passenger’s side.  
“Errrr....what are you doing Faceache?”

Noodle tapped the window for Murdoc’s attention. When he rolled it down she smiled at him like a mother to her unknowing child.

“I am not going with you because I have to go grocery shopping today. I expect that you will treat him well? Hai?”

“Yeah, yeah whatever can we leave now?” Murdoc’s tongue slid across his lips, the top, the bottom then over the ridges of his pointy teeth.

“We ehh, have to be on time, don’t we?”

Noodle rolled her eyes. She went back to the porch and waved as the bassist swerved from the driveway to the road. He whipped the wheel into place and tore through the avenue with 2D pinned to his seat from the fear of being catapulted through the windshield yet again. Townhouses flashed in the corner of the singer’s eyes, tall whisps of reddish brown against a gray sky.

“M-Murdoc slow down,” he muttered shakily. “P-please!”

“Shut it! I’m trying to drive!”

“Murdoc!”

“What?” Murdoc’s fierce glare paralyzed the singer.

“Your driving is making me sick Muds.”

“Sick?” he echoed incredulously

“Y-yeah.”

Murdoc eased on the gas. His knuckles whitened as they clutched the wheel to release the tension building in his chest.

“Uh...Muds?”

“What now?” The bassist sighed in exaggeration. The red traffic light above them gave him a minute or so to turn and face the singer beside him, his eyebrow disappearing as it raised into his hair. He put his elbow on the armrest and scratched the peppered hairs on his chin. 2D had separated himself from the leathered seat and brushed his sleeves to fix the wrinkles he’d made when his hands had desperately needed something to hold during their recent wild ride.

“I think we missed our turn.”

2D jumped when Murdoc slammed his fist on the horn which blurted out a nasty howl to the other cars around them. The bassist gritted his teeth, snatched the map from his passenger and hurriedly examined the route they were meant to take which... he noticed didn’t include the crossroad straight ahead.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me mate!” He tossed the map in the singer’s lap.

“Fuck!”

“Murdoc we can turn around I bet there’s a u-turn up ahead here somewhere-”

“No!”

“N….no?”

“Left turn only Dullard!”

“Is that what that arrow thingy means?”

“Shut up! Let me-gyah! Let me think!”

They drove through the next intersections, hitting a red light at each one and Murdoc groaning louder as the time flew by. If they weren’t late from his loitering, they surely would be now that the universe plotted against them. Missed their turn? Countless flashy red lights that would haunt his dreams for days? Murdoc scoffed.

_Brilliant. What else? A tornado to wrap up this disastrous shindig?_

He turned onto a gravel road. Rocks kicked up into the tires, knocking against the metal frame of the car as though they were being shaken inside a plastic bottle. They clattered, brought dust to the open window which 2D frantically tried to roll closed. Murdoc’s eyes were locked on the road where dust clouds gathered like a beige mist, cloaking what lay ahead, potholes. The first one caught the front tire and tilted the car on it’s right. 2D’s face smashed against the window like a doughy pancake.

“Hold on,” Murdoc shifted the gear, spun the wheel, crushed the gas pedal and raced them through the dust and into the vast countryside. 2D rubbed his face into shape as he took in the surroundings. A thin layer of grass blanketed the rich earth. Trees of old age boarded the hills as though they were guarding these empty pastures from the farmers that would manipulate their healthy soil, use it as their own until it was dry. At the thought, Murdoc licked his lips, replenishing them with needed moisture.

“This is your fault,” his growl sent a shiver through.

“M-my fault?”

“ _Your_ fault.”

“I-I’m sorry Muds.”

Was he supposed to accept that as an answer? What good was ‘I’m sorry’? It’d never meant anything before to the bassist, why should that change? 2D's dazed eyes lowered in worry. Murdoc looked down too and realized his buttons were still one off. He thought he’d fixed them already. TThis constant state of uncertainty was the reason he couldn’t accept an ‘I’m sorry’ from the other man; something was off and needed to be fixed beyond just those two words that dangled in the thick air like dice from the rearview mirror.

“Do you even understand what I’m talking about?”

2D hesitantly shook his head.

“Of course not.”

“What...are you talking about Murdoc?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“You haven’t told me yet.”

“I don’t want to tell you,” Murdoc held a cigarette to his lips and brought his free hand to shield it from the singer as he lit it. 2D squirmed uncomfortably, pulling at the restrictive seat belt for space.

“Is it about the directions? I-I knew I was reading them wrong! I thought it looked funny when they was going the wrong ways and I-”

“That’s not what I’m talking about Dents.”

2D’s knees rose to the glove box as he sunk further in his seat and whined in defeat.

“Forget it, I need to turn us around.”

Once they were heading in the direction they came, 2D had figured that it was best he kept his lips sealed for the remainder of the drive.

“You won’t ever understand. You’re just too...2D,” Murdoc concluded, his palm whacking the base of the wheel. 2D offered an uncertain smile.

“I could be Stuart instead. If that’s any better.”


	7. Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Therapy? _Therapy?_ Why did he have to go? He knew why, Noodle knew why and if it were up to him, that was how it would stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that seeing Murdoc in therapy seems to be a favourite idea! Without knowing it I might have left it out but here it is-! :D 
> 
> And because of this, I want to thank everyone that has been following the story so far and for those that have commented their thoughts on the work-- It honestly is one of my biggest motivators knowing that I am able to inspire someone out there with these characters and their story. <3 Please continue to let me know how you feel about the work, what you think might happen and share! 
> 
> Thank you!

“Can we wrrrrap this up sweet’ums? I’ve got a rather pressing matter to attend to that involves me, the car and the next sexy bird that walks by heh, heh.”

“Mr. Niccals,” the therapist looked up at him over the rim of her glasses, which rested precariously on the thin bridge of her nose. Her hair was tied in a bun that pulled the wrinkles right out of her forehead, making her appear much younger than the ‘happy 45th’ painted on her mug.

“I understand that this is not the first time you’ve been to therapy?”

“What does that have to do with this?” Murdoc crossed one leg over the other and raked his knee with his nails, brow knitted.

“You’ve been here before. May I ask what for?”

“No. Next question.”

She shrugged as she lifted the mug to her lips and slurped the black liquid inside. Her eyes fell behind the foggy glasses while her free hand opened the folder on her desk.

“Mr. Niccals, I want this to be effective for you.”

“Rrrreally?” Murdoc smirked deviously, leaning over his knees to peer at her through the puffs of steam rising from her coffee.

“Then why don’t we call it a day, yeah? Kick it to the curb and let me be on my way, I-”

“Your session is fifty minutes. If you’d like you can choose an activity to do instead. Otherwise it’s you, me, and whatever is on your mind.”

 _Stuart_ , he thought, as his eyes drifted to the cabinet where board games, puzzles, colouring books and other art supplies were shelved, worn from the use.

_That idiot is probably playing with those stupid pencils, pretending they’re drums or rocketships or whatever stupid cartoony thing he can think of...Elephants perhaps._

A grin cracked through the corner of his sagging mouth and the therapist set her mug on the table, wiping her lenses as she watched with morbid curiosity. He shuffled his greasy hair onto his forehead, a seamless action that guarded him from the intensity of her stare. He wasn’t about to let her intrude on the secrets that lurked in his own eyes; the guilt that floated within them was his problem to manage, in his bathroom, where he would check into his daily appointment with that dreadful green ogre. But in this miniature library of kiddy toys and motivational posters? No, this was not the place to bring about his inner demons, it was for the best that they stay beneath his hairline where she couldn’t find them.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, clicking her pen once in preparation to note what he would say. However, she seemed rather disappointed with the one word he gave her:

“Stuart.”

“Stuart?”

“My bandmate.”

“Why?”

“You ask a shitload of questions love,” he said, smile devoid of humour.

“The more of them you answer the faster the session will be. Trust me-” she offered him a squishy foam ball by placing it in front of him.

“- it helps.”

Murdoc picked up the toy, sneering at it. He tried to squeeze the foam in half. When it didn’t tear he squeezed it again, determined to puncture it’s rubbery skin. But he unfurled his hand and it inflated without a single wound. 2D’s skin was rubbery, too… he remained perfectly whole no matter how hard Murdoc tore into him.

“So...you were saying? About Stuart?”

“Hrrrgh...Yeah, Stu. Stu-Pot.” He coughed. “2D? He’s my bandmate, lovely little fellow.”

“‘Lovely’?”

“Shut it. He’s my front man, if he wasn’t ‘lovely’ he wouldn’t be here. Simple as that.”

“I see.”

Murdoc clutched the ball in his hand until his shook from the strain.

“Are you okay?” the therapist asked, jotting these reactions in her notes.

“What do you care?”

“I do care.”

“You’re being paid for this, heh, I would say I care too.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” Murdoc put the toy on the table and flicked it irritably, pretending it was the singer’s nose after he’d done something stupid, like fed the cat chocolate thinking it would like a yummy treat.

“Are you thinking about Stuart?”

“Are you trying to rattle my engine, Missy?”

“I’m trying to understand.” She laid her pen across her notepad to show him that she could provide her full attention and interest in what he was about to say. Murdoc’s lip twitched, blood dripped from them as he chewed them between his sharp teeth.

“He’s going through some….personal things, eh, problems.”

“Stuart is?”

“Mmm, he’s been rather stressed. We went out to the club together ah, little over a week ago? It seems he’s a bit of a lightweight, heh hehh...I didn’t think nothing of it when he, er, didn’t come back. How could I? There were wonderful birds at my hip that hmph, knew how to keep me busy~.”

“Did something happen?”

“Do you really want to know? I don’t think you can handle it.”

“Me? I’m more concerned about you, Mr. Niccals.”

Murdoc twisted to crack his spine, rotating his shoulders and popping the joints in his fingers with a lengthy groan. She knew that now, she had him at her whim and he was aware that she could penetrate his tough exterior, claw her way into his mind with those long fake nails and and pluck at the strings that kept him together like she were tugging the strings of some out-of-tune guitar.

‘Why resist it?’ he thought. As though reflective of his thoughts and his very self, depressive, off-key melodies were addicting to the bassist. That was the reason 5/4 made it to his very selective ipod playlist back in 2003.

“Alllllright,” he drawled, tongue flicking the roof of his dry mouth.

“I’ll tell you all about it.”

***

Therapy ended at a quarter past three in the afternoon, which was too early for the pubs to have decent entertainment or a healthy crowd that Murdoc could blend into. People were scattered through the main square, walking along the sidewalks with phones in their hands or bags hung on their wrists with designer labels printed on them. Murdoc sneered at the sight of these regular folk carrying the brand names that matched the cursive print on his own clothes tags. They weren’t rock stars like him, so why did he acknowledge them? Vaguely, he wondered which of them would go home to a family like he used to before Kong Studios was ravaged by the horde of zombies and he had to burnt it down. Which people lived alone? He imagined the guy across the street would arrive to an empty apartment aside from the cat that could care less if he ever came home. Then there were those, he thought, that had something cooking inside those egg-shell shaped heads. What were they planning? Where would they go next? And would it involve 2D?

 _2D_? he thought. _Why the fuck am I still thinking about that silly sod?_

Perhaps it was because the singer had yet to join him on the steps outside of the therapy center. Their sessions had started at the same time and to his assumption, they should end that way. The singer was nowhere to be seen or, more noticeably, heard.

Murdoc pulled his phone from his leather jacket. His thumbs flicked across the keyboard then hovered over the send button.

“He’ll be out soon,” he sighed and put the phone away without sending the message. He refused to worry about that idiot when there was nothing to fret about. Those people walking by probably didn’t even know he existed anyway.

“Murdoc?” 2D held the door open with one hand coiled around the handle bar.

“How long have you been waiting?”

“Not long mate, why did you take longer?”

2D exited the building with half a smile as though he were testing how it felt, his muscles twitching at the unfamiliar sensation. He searched his pockets until he found a sheet of paper with scribbles of colour on it.

“I was drawing this. I don’t really know what it is but he said I could doodle what I wanted and then I could bring it home with me.”

“You...doodled?”

“Yeah.” His smile faded as he was struck by the intensity in Murdoc’s narrowed eyes.

“What did you do?”

“I ...we talked is all. Nonsense really.”

“What sort of nonsense did you talk about?”

“2D.” Murdoc cut his voice short when the singer flinched. He waited for 2D’s shoulders to fall back into place before continuing.

“Are you a therapist?”

“E-er-...No?”

“Then quit bugging me with your bloody questions. Satan, you’re annoying.”

They went to their car, which was parked in the lot behind the building. 2D got in first while Murdoc lit a cigarette and leaned against the car to smoke half of it, before getting in the driver’s seat.

“Can we get food on the way home, mate? I’m starving!”

“Mmm… fine, what do you want?”

“I was thinking fast food. Like somethin’ easy to get in a drive through ‘cause then we can just eat it in the car on the way.”

“Nngh,” Murdoc glanced beside him where a black car was pulling into the lot, its tinted window partially cracked. 2D grabbed the handle with both hands, his fingers intertwined, white and crisscrossed like woven yarn.

“Wh-what are we waitin’ on, mate?”

Murdoc studied the singer quietly then jammed his key in the ignition.

“We’re going! Satan, calm down Dents, you look like a sodding ghost,” he mumbled, hand on the bottom of the wheel to steer them out of the lot. 2D hunched over when they drove by the other car, obscuring his face from view.

Why are his knickers twisted? Murdoc tugged on the cloth grip that covered the wheel thoughtfully.

“Did you talk about it?” he finally asked in a loaded sigh.

“I didn’t.”

“Why? What’s the harm in it mate? You might as well-”

“I can’t.”

Silence wedged between them like an uninvited guest; they were shoulder-to-shoulder in that middle compartment. 

“You can,” he muttered cautiously, as though he were testing whether or not the singer could even hear over the noisy, bass pounding cars surrounding them at the stop light.

“I-I don’t think I can.”

“And why is that, Dullard?”

“B-because I just want to forget about it.”

“It doesn’t work that way unless…” Murdoc groaned, rubbing his face to ease the tension that etched a prominent scowl on his features.

“You drink it away?”

Murdoc flinched, slamming his foot on the brake which jerked them forward. 2D smacked into the glovebox.

“Ouch! What was that for!”

“You ought to be more careful when you open that stupid mouth of yours.”

“All I said was drinking makes you forget things! I-isn’t that why you do it?”

The bassist reacted instantly, connecting his fist with the singer’s perfect little nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a side note I also take requests for any Gorillaz characters and slash between 2D/Murdoc. If there's something you want to see- let me know! I would love to be of service!


	8. Accidental Cyanide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're searching for something...something that will numb the pain or remove any traces of their mistakes, their past and alter their future. But they don't necessarily find exactly what they're looking for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that I've taken a while to update! I have been working on art recently and taken a bit of a break with writing. But it's been too long! I miss it too much! It may take some time to get back into the swing of things so I hope that you all enjoy what I have ready for you!

“What did you do that for?” 2D examined the bruise in the mirror as he thought aloud.

The remainder of their drive had been packed with cold silence, almost numbing the bruise that started to form on the singer’s face. 2D had a hand over his teary eye while he watched the traffic flow smoothly around them. That’s what it had felt like. Murdoc’s fist connected with his face in one, smooth movement that 2D could replay in his head, frame by frame. What made him do it? He thought he should ask but he couldn’t form the words between his stiff lips. He’d rather scream, or cry, or both.

He settled for singing along to the sad love songs that whispered through the speakers. He didn’t much care for the hip pop culture bands like Ed Sheeran but the melancholic strum of an acoustic guitar comforted his worried heart. He was thankful that Murdoc hadn’t thought to change the station.

When they arrived at the apartment, Murdoc was first to get out. He slammed the car door shut, rocking the entire vehicle. 2D had yet to even find the buckle. By the time he was out of his seat, his bandmate had already disappeared inside, leaving him to lock the car doors. The problem was… he didn’t have the keys.

No one’ll loot it, he thought. Nothin’ they need in there anyway.

He went inside and to the bathroom where he could finally see the blue lump beneath his baggy eyes.

“Bet he’s… Bet he’s drinkin’ now even.”

2D glanced through the cracked open door. A beam of light parted the shadowed hall. He assumed Noodle had left her light on when she went out. He’s done it before, so he couldn’t blame her for being forgetful. In a brief shrug, he turned back to the mirror.

The lump had grown, swelling from the top of his cheek, around his eye socket and into his eyebrow. 2D lightly padded it with his fingertips. They were cold against the hot, blood filled skin. He pushed on the medicine cabinet, popping it open to sift through the pill bottles and condom boxes for something that would lessen the throbs. His eye finally swelled shut with gluey tears.

“It’s got to be in here,” he grumbled. Was he out of them already? He couldn’t find the baggie of ‘special’ brand pills. They were the upgraded kind, the seller had said. They were sure to relieve any and all of his bothersome symptoms, no matter the illness. 2D hadn’t tried them yet. He couldn’t recall where or how he’d come across them either, or the seller’s face. But that didn’t phase him, he was busy, frantically knocking his hand through pill bottles. The pill bottles tumbled onto the counter and rattled as they fell in the sink. Their caps twisted off and the pills mixed together on the drain.

The baggie wasn’t there.

Where did I put it? His mind buzzed. Fog from his breath stretched across the glass as he dug through the pills in the sink as though he were panning for treasure. His nails chipped on the metal drain and his he bumped the faucet which then leaked on his wrist.

“Where are they?!”

He jumped away from the sink when he heard the door shut. The beam of light in the hall was now a sliver of gold streaming from below Noodle’s door. 2D left the bathroom, and the mess in it, to listen as he approached her room.   
I didn’t think she was home.

He paused with one hand on the door knob. From what he could hear, he assumed that the rustled thumps were books being tossed about. The sharp sound of paper being ripped apart had made his knees bend inward. His fingers twitched on the knob as he turned it until it clicked and the door fell open. The chaos grew louder. He heard the sliding closet doors clunk as they ricocheted against their frames.

“Noods are you well love?”

But it wasn’t Noodle that was half hidden behind the closet door with their rump wavering in the air.

It was Murdoc.

“Murdoc wh-what are you doing in here?” 2D cried, slamming the door shut behind him as he hurried into the room before Noodle would have the chance to see this.

“She has somethin’ of mine, yeah? And I’m going to find it.” Murdoc crawled further into the closet, rummaging through shoes, textbooks, music equipment and different costume pieces.

“Y-you can’t just go snoopin’ through her stuff Muds! It ain’t right!”

“Oh for Satan’s sake 2D!” Murdoc slid from the closet and hoisted himself to his feet to brush the dust from his jeans.

“This has nothin’ to do with you Dents, so, I suggest you turn around and leave. Go to your room and suck on your pretty little pills mate.”

“I won’t!” 2D crossed his arms over his chest.

“What’s she got of yours? I could help you look.”

“Absolutely not!” Murdoc cackled as he lifted Noodle’s mattress to check underneath.

“I don’t need your bloody help, nor do I need you runnin’ your stupid mouth about this to Noodle. I’ll clean it up when I’m done and it will look like no one’s ever been in here. Alright? Take those long legs of yours and prance back to your room.”

“You shouldn’t be goin’ through her stuff Muds, I’ve got to tell her about it.” 2D reached for the doorknob to leave when Murdoc lunged at him, grabbed his shirt and yanked him toward the mattress where he threw him down. 2D shrieked in terror and kicking his legs out at the bassists who stood just beyond his range.

“You won’t say one word faceache. Got it?”

2D stiffened, then nodded.

“I’m serious. If you say anythin’ I will find out.”

He nodded again. He would keep nodding if he had to, as long as he didn’t have to unravel the cage he formed around himself with his arms. He was blocked from the world, from the blurry figure standing above him that no longer resembled the bassist he knew.

“Hey mate, Dents,” Murdoc’s shoulders dropped. He faltered when he tried to reach out to the singer’s wobbly knees.

“Relax, I’m not going to- 2D you’re fine. Get up. I won’t hit you again. Look.”

Murdoc held his hands up but the singer refused to look at him. 2D continued to nod like a broken crane machine, his head swaying back and forth. The creases in his forehead were scrunched in zig-zags between his eyebrows.

Cry baby, Murdoc fed himself the insults to combat the unease that festered in his stomach. He sat on the opposite side of the mattress, legs and arms crossed while he waited for the singer to calm down. His eyes remained on the floor as 2D sat up.

“Have you finished?”

“Yeah, I’m good I think,” 2D mumbled. He combed his bangs with his fingers, breath evened after a long exhale.

“Better at least.”

Their conversation died like roadkill, dragging for miles while stuck on the tires until eventually, it was abandoned along the side of the road. Murdoc turned to find 2D’s head hung low, hair looming over his sweaty forehead. The singer’s brooding expression deepened and tempted Murdoc to speak once more. He wondered if his words had the power to change that mournful, pouty-lipped gaze. He never doubted it before but when 2D stood, it became more and more difficult to chance.

“I won’t tell her. But I still don’t think you should be doin’ this. It’s not right. She’s done nothin’ to deserve this sort of thing mate,” 2D said as he sauntered to the door, using the wall for balance.

“Are you trying to guilt trip me Dents?” Murdoc’s voice thinned into a hiss.

“Not really, no. I wasn’t trying to do anythin’.”

Murdoc thought he had left and forgotten to shut the door but he heard him again.

“What does she have of yours anyway Muds?”

“Oh,” the bassist chuckled out a thoughtful growl. His nails scratched at the stubble on his chin. 2D couldn’t know the truth, so he had to find an...alternative one.

“She took my letter, for that rapper we had ditch us for that party the other week? That one! Yeah, don’t you remember 2D? I was rather, hm, cross to put it nicely. I wrote it out on a letter and thought I should mail it myself with a kiss on the envelope for good measure but Noodle didn’t seem very fond of the idea. You see, she’s quite sensitive.”   
2D cocked his head to the side.

“Noodle took it? She has a good heart Murdoc, maybe it will rub off on you some.”

“Get out,” Murdoc spat. He waved his hands, shooing his bandmate out the door.

“Go and, make some song about drugs or other- er, what did you call it? Sleeping Power?”

“Powder Murdo-”

“Right, whatever.” Murdoc lit a cigarette and took a drag, chest inflating with a raspy, smoke tainted breath. On the exhale he continued.

“Leave me to my business.”

“Alright,” 2D said, already halfway out the door.

Murdoc waited, standing tall in the center of the cluttered room. Papers rocked on their crumpled edges at his feet, nudging him gently. He kicked at them and they fluttered through the weak current in the air, drifting in one direction to the next until they landed on the floor. He could feel that current. It tugged at him like a receding tide, urging him to move. He resisted, lips stubbornly pursed tight around the cigarette bud. He refused to give into any element. If he didn’t stand strong, he thought, then he had no reason to stand at all.

He spotted something glossy poking out of the crevice between the shelves. Across the room there was a ziplock baggie, half hidden by an amplifier.

“What an odd thing to have, Noodle,” he snickered as he walked to the shelves and snatched the baggie. It contained a colourful assortments of pills.

“Noodle love, what are these?” He tested the question, rehearsing it to himself as he opened the baggie to sniff inside.

“These are- No, couldn’t possibly be those.”

He read the sticky note pasted on the amplifier where the baggie had been.

‘6:18am - 2D’s jacket’

“But-”

Murdoc stumbled from the shelf, one hand pressed to his pale forehead to keep his head upright as the current drove him through the room like a small ship at sea.

“Why would he have cyanide?”

**Author's Note:**

> For Laughs (fun facts): They (stegosaurus') lived during the Late Jurassic period (Kimmeridgian to early Tithonian), some 155 to 150 million years ago in what is now western North America. In 2006, a specimen of Stegosaurus was announced from Portugal, showing that they were present in Europe as well.(and keep an eye out, as I continue through the story there might be little blurbs in this section that pop in my head, hope you all like a solid joke-I might post a few to lighten the mood from these dense chapters :'D )
> 
> Interested in more? Check out my wattpad: @water_lily_princess


End file.
